| |
| “LO! the fell monster 1 with the deadly sting, | |
| Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls | |
| And firm embattled spears, and with his filth | |
| Taints all the world.” Thus me my guide address’d, | |
| And beckon’d him, that he should come to shore, | 5 |
| Near to the stony causeway’s utmost edge. | |
| Forthwith that image vile of Fraud appear’d, | |
| His head and upper part exposed on land, | |
| But laid not on the shore his bestial train. | |
| His face the semblance of a just man’s wore, | 10 |
| So kind and gracious was its outward cheer; | |
| The rest was serpent all: two shaggy claws | |
| Reach’d to the arm-pits; and the back and breast, | |
| And either side, were painted o’er with nodes | |
| And orbits. Colours variegated more | 15 |
| Nor Turks nor Tartars e’er on cloth of state | |
| With interchangeable embroidery wove, | |
| Nor spread Arachne o’er her curious loom. | |
| As oft-times a light skiff, moor’d to the shore, | |
| Stands part in water, part upon the land; | 20 |
| Or, as where dwells the greedy German boor, | |
| The beaver settles, watching for his prey; | |
| So on the rim, that fenced the sand with rock, | |
| Sat perch’d the fiend of evil. In the void | |
| Glancing, his tail upturn’d its venomous fork, | 25 |
| With sting like scorpion’s arm’d. Then thus my guide, | |
| “Now need our way must turn few steps apart, | |
| Far as to that ill beast, who couches there.” | |
| Thereat, toward the right our downward course | |
| We shaped, and, better to escape the flame | 30 |
| And burning marle, ten paces on the verge | |
| Proceeded. Soon as we to him arrive, | |
| A little farther on mine eye beholds | |
| A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand | |
| Near to the void. Forthwith my master spake: | 35 |
| “That to the full thy knowledge may extend | |
| Of all this round contains, go now, and mark | |
| The mien these wear: but hold not long discourse. | |
| Till thou returnest, I with him meantime | |
| Will parley, that to us he may vouchsafe | 40 |
| The aid of his strong shoulders.” Thus alone, | |
| Yet forward on the extremity I paced | |
| Of that seventh circle, where the mournful tribe | |
| Were seated. At the eyes forth gush’d their pangs, | |
| Against the vapors and the torrid soil | 45 |
| Alternately their shifting hands they plied. | |
| Thus use the dogs in summer still to ply | |
| Their jaws and feet by turns, when bitten sore | |
| By gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round. | |
| Noting the visages of some, who lay | 50 |
| Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire, | |
| One of them all I knew not; but perceived, | |
| That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch 2 | |
| With colours and with emblems various mark’d, | |
| On which it seem’d as if their eye did feed. | 55 |
| And when, amongst them, looking round I came, | |
| A yellow purse 3 I saw with azure wrought, | |
| That wore a lion’s countenance and port. | |
| Then, still my sight pursuing its career, | |
| Another 4 I beheld, than blood more red, | 60 |
| A goose display of whiter wing than curd. | |
| And one, who bore a fat and azure swine 5 | |
| Pictured on his white scrip, address’d me thus: | |
| “What dost thou in this deep? Go now and know, | |
| Since yet thou livest, that my neighbor here | 65 |
| Vitaliano 6 on my left shall sit. | |
| A Paduan with these Florentines am I. | |
| Oft-times they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming, | |
| ‘Oh! haste that noble knight 7, he who the pouch | |
| With the three goats will bring.’” This said, he writhed | 70 |
| The mouth, and loll’d the tongue out, like an ox | |
| That licks his nostrils. I, lest longer stay | |
| He ill might brook, who bade me stay not long, | |
| Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn’d. | |
| My guide already seated on the haunch | 75 |
| Of the fierce animal I found; and thus | |
| He me encouraged. “Be thou stout: be bold. | |
| Down such a steep flight must we now descend. | |
| Mount thou before: for, that no power the tail | |
| May have to harm thee, I will be i’ th’ midst.” | 80 |
| As one, who hath an ague fit so near, | |
| His nails already are turn’d blue, and he | |
| Quivers all o’er, if he but eye the shade; | |
| Such was my cheer at hearing of his words. | |
| But shame soon interposed her threat, who makes | 85 |
| The servant bold in presence of his lord. | |
| I settled me upon those shoulders huge, | |
| And would have said, but that the words to aid | |
| My purpose came not, “Look thou clasp me firm.” | |
| But he whose succour then not first I proved, | 90 |
| Soon as I mounted, in his arms aloft, | |
| Embracing, held me up; and thus he spake: | |
| “Geryon! now move thee: be thy wheeling gyres | |
| Of ample circuit, easy thy descent. | |
| Think on the unusual burden thou sustain’st.” | 95 |
| As a small vessel, backening out from land, | |
| Her station quits; so thence the monster loosed, | |
| And, when he felt himself at large, turn’d round | |
| There, where the breast had been, his forked tail. | |
| Thus, like an eel, outstretch’d at length he steer’d, | 100 |
| Gathering the air up with retractile claws. | |
| Not greater was the dread, when Phaeton | |
| The reins let drop at random, whence high heaven, | |
| Whereof signs yet appear, was wrapt in flames; | |
| Nor when ill-fated Icarus perceived, | 105 |
| By liquefaction of the scalded wax, | |
| The trusted pennons loosen’d from his loins, | |
| His sire exclaiming loud, “Ill way thou keep’st,” | |
| Than was my dread, when round me on each part | |
| The air I view’d, and other object none | 110 |
| Save the fell beast. He, slowly sailing, wheels | |
| His downward motion, unobserved of me, | |
| But that the wind, arising to my face, | |
| Breathes on me from below. Now on our right | |
| I heard the cataract beneath us leap | 115 |
| With hideous crash; whence bending down to explore, | |
| New terror I conceived at the steep plunge; | |
| For flames I saw, and wailings smote mine ear: | |
| So that, all trembling, close I crouch’d my limbs, | |
| And then distinguish’d, unperceived before, | 120 |
| By the dread torments that on every side | |
| Drew nearer, how our downward course we wound. | |
| As falcon, that hath long been on the wing, | |
| But lure nor bid hath seen, while in despair | |
| The falconer cries, “Ah me! thou stoop’st to earth,” | 125 |
| Wearied descends, whence nimbly he arose | |
| In many an airy wheel, and lighting sits | |
| At distance from his lord in angry mood; | |
| So Geryon lighting places us on foot | |
| Low down at base of the deep-furrow’d rock, | 130 |
| And, of his burden there discharged, forthwith | |
| Sprang forward, like an arrow from the string. | |
